UVB-76
by Von Alis
Summary: No one has seen Ivan in years and Ludwig is convinced he doesn't want to see him ever again, but Gilbert returns home after the fall of the Wall with a radio given to him by Ivan, set to a very peculiar channel. One where no one ever speaks. The brothers must wait together for garbled messages, but how many years will it be before they break? RusGer, Angst, Human Names used
1. Meet Our Heroes

The two story house in a residential area of Berlin was quiet. It almost always was. Occasionally, on Saturdays, raucous laughter would break the calm, and the inhabitants' holidays were just as loud as their neighbors'. But these days only served to assure the other residents that those living in this taciturn house were human, or as close to human as they could be.

It was a stoic house. Painted a pale, forgettable shade of blue, it seemed to fade into the morning mists and grey winters. The shutters were a sterile white, as was the door. It was a government owned property; little did the neighbors know its inhabitants could be considered government property as well.

Inside this reserved residence lived two brothers; the younger was just as reticent as the house, placing the boisterous elder in stark contrast. The pale paint matched the younger's eyes while the white shutters matched the elder's skin. The mailbox read 'Beilschmidt.'

The elder was a drinker, a partyer, some called him a madman. He was known to bring around two foreigners on Saturdays and sometimes a policeman would bring around the brother on Sundays. The across-the-street neighbor swears that the brother once came home wearing only a shredded pillowcase, he also swears that the pale man leapt from the roof of the house, smashed into the concrete, and lived.

The neighbor's wife saw the younger drag his brother's broken body into the house afterwards, but she'll never say it.

On the weekdays the elder Beilschmidt donned a floppy sunhat to protect his pale skin and walked his brother's three dogs. He was albino; his hair so pale it was white and his irises a frightening red. His younger brother cared for him fiercely.

The younger was tall, blond, with blue eyes, all in all good looking. He had no friends, if he did, no one ever saw them. The only friend he had was his older brother. The younger walked his dogs on the weekends; he had a government job during the week.

The brothers were government property; they were personifications of countries, one past and forgotten, the other modern but just as ignored. The government had little need for such beings, after all, the world is run on science and rationality, it does not need divine anomalies like the brothers Beilschmidt.

But the government grudgingly respected the younger brother, the modern Germany, and so they paid him to deal with all other modern personifications, all except one. However, they did not respect the elder, the former Prussia and the fallen East. And so the elder stayed at home, upset by his reliance on his brother, but in a way he knew his little brother relied on him, not only for security and strength, but also to listen.

The house was quiet. But if one looked up the stairs and turned their head ever so slightly to the left they could hear it. Radio static and a steady buzzing, a pulse, a beat that had never left this house since the elder brother had brought it in. The sound was unnerving, disturbing if listened to for too long, when the older brother had brought his friends over for the first time they left after just a few minutes, visibly frightened by the noise.

Neither of the brothers minded it, the radio station hadn't been changed for almost twenty-three years.

Call sign UVB-76, the younger lovingly called it UVB.

UVB-76.

When the younger worked his brother would take the radio from the study and place it next to him on the couch as he watched home videos and re-runs of M*A*S*H in English. The younger Beilschmidt had bought him the German copies of the show but his elder never watched them, he had complained that all the characters were voiced by the same man, even Margaret Houlihan.

The radio buzzed and pulsed through the brothers' meals together as they discussed their day. The older brother retold his favorite lines from that day's episode or reminded his brother of the happy times they had together in front of a shaky camera lens.

The younger brother would smile and laugh quietly before he asked what supplies they would need for the coming week. The meal would end and dishes would be washed before the younger gathered the radio into his arms and carried it carefully up the stairs and into his study to finish his paperwork.

The study was warm. A golden light filled the room from the seemingly ever lit fireplace. Books lined the walls, leather spines of every color stood at perfect attention in the shelves. The brother placed the old radio beside a framed photograph of a man no one had seen for thirty-one years.

He was tall, taller than the younger brother, with light hair, somewhere between blond and strange ashy color. His face was round, stereotypically Russian, and his nose even more so, hooked and large it was the subject of many snide remarks by a culturally-lacking American. The black and white photo did not capture the eyes that were so blue they were violet. A smile just barely played on his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. Only one person could remember a time when it truly did. He stood in his stiff military uniform with his hat tucked beneath his arm posing for this photograph so many years ago.

Dark ink trailed in lazy loops, a name sprawled itself across the photograph, the name of the man for whom the radio buzzed. And every so often, sometimes in the dead of night, sometimes when daylight shone brightest, it came. His voice, garbled and muted, it paused the loud bleating pulse and spoke.

* * *

So, hi, again... Uh, I haven't been on in months and I just started working on this... Turns out I really love RusGer, anyways, the chapters will be short and the language is intended to be very quick. UVB-76 is an actual radio station, go on, look it up! It's probably the creepiest thing you will ever listen to but there is just so much to write about it! Hope you like this! Comment and reviews are really appreciated!


	2. October 1990

October 3rd 1990 was a warm day. His brother was drenched. The sterile white door of his house was flung open, and the taller brother stared open-mouthed at his elder, stooped on the front step, his clothes and hair soaked with water.

"Hey, Ludwig," he panted, clutching something to his stomach, "Long time no see."

"G-Gilbert… I didn't- Oh, Gilbert," Ludwig pulled his brother close, wrapping his arms tightly around the emaciated man.

"Hey, hey, Ludwig, not so tight, you'll break it," Gilbert gasped, unable to move his pinned arms.

The younger brother loosened his grip and took a step back, "I just didn't think that you… That you were-" Ludwig bit down on his lower lip and tears threatened to spill onto his face.

"Heh, it takes more than losing my lands to kill me, Lutz…" Gilbert looked down at the bundle of rags in his arms, "B-Besides," Gilbert's voice cracked here as he began to lose his composure, "He gave me a job to do…"

Ludwig stared at him for a moment, then down at the buzzing parcel that his brother held out to him between their bodies. There was a sharp intake of air and he bit down on his lip again, harder this time. "He can wait, Gilbert, you need to come inside. How did you get wet?"

The drenched man opened his mouth to argue but then closed it slowly, his lips pressed into a thin smile. "Some kids playing with water, why didn't you come out to see it fall?"

Ludwig lead him carefully into the house, he tried to avoid the three dogs snuffling at his elder brother's dripping clothes. "I didn't think there would be anyone I wanted to see."

"Not even him?"

"He doesn't want to see me."

"I disagree, Ludwig, he-"

"You need to get dry, you can borrow my clothes, take a shower if you'd like." Ludwig cut his brother off and showed him the stairs, "I'll make you some dinner."

Gilbert's eyes flashed with irritation but he did what he was told and climbed the stairs to the bedroom, leaving the chattering bundle on the counter. The kitchen was filled with the sound of clattering dishes. Ludwig glanced at the buzzing thing covered in rags, sausage popped on the stove and he sighed, the man didn't want to see him, not after he had broken the pact so many years ago.

Water hissed through the pipes as Ludwig set the table and as soon as food was on the plates thunderous footsteps made their way from the upstairs bedroom down the stairs and into the white kitchen.

Gilbert sat at the head of the table; Ludwig stared for a moment at the chair that had been vacant for so long now filled by his brother's presence. He brought the food across the kitchen. "I made sausage and hashed potatoes, is that all right?" Ludwig asked setting the supper before Gilbert.

"Lutz, any food is good food," Gilbert replied, looking up at Ludwig with fatigued eyes, his emaciated cheeks wrinkled as a smile split his face.

Grief clawed at Ludwig's throat, "I'm sorry, Gilbert. I'm sorry they did this to you."

"It doesn't matter anymore, I'm here, let's eat, please, let us be happy again. I just wanna be happy."

Ludwig sat down, silverware scraped dishes.

As they finished Gilbert drew patterns in the grease, "This place looks like a hospital, Lutz."

Ludwig glanced around at the whitewashed walls and the cold linoleum flooring.

"I'll paint it for you."

"Gilbert, you don't have to."

"I want to."

Silence overtook them again, pulsing buzzes echoed off the asylum walls. Ludwig reached for the plates but Gilbert spoke.

"You didn't look at it."

"What is it?"

"A radio, his radio. He told me to give it to you."

"Does it always make that noise?"

"Been carrying it around since eighty-two. Used to make a little chirping sound, reminded me of birds. He knew I missed the birds."

"What happened?"

"They took me away, the government that is, locked me up, I didn't see the sun for almost six years. I never heard the birds."

"Gilbert, why? Why would they do that to you?" Tears made perfect circles in the grease.

"You know, you've always known that they didn't like me. People know I'm different, government didn't want the people to know, that I represented them."

The air buzzed with radio waves.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

Ludwig collected the plates and Gilbert shuffled over to the stained pile of fabric. Ludwig's clothes were too big on his brother, hanging on his limbs like rags on tree branches.

Bony fingers stroked the burlap before pulling it away. Ludwig watched over his shoulder as the radio was revealed.

"Why?"

"Dunno, never said, he just told me to give it to you. Nobody has ever spoken on it."

"Just the noise?"

"I hear it in my dreams."

* * *

I have a lot of chapters already uploaded but I'm just gonna go slow, test the waters and whatnot...


	3. November 1990

The door blew open and November air waltzed in. "Gilbert! Gilbert, I got the paint!" Ludwig shouted, attempting to shut the door with his foot.

His brother hurried down the stairs to close the door. "Ludwig, what is all this?"

The younger brother walked clumsily to the kitchen counter, trying to balance paint cans, bags of groceries, and a covered dome. "I got some things."

"I see that. What is it?" Gilbert tugged at the fabric covering on the dome but pulled his hand back when a sudden beating erupted from inside.

"It's a surprise, open the cans on the tarp, you'll see it after we're done." Ludwig took the dome by the handle on the top and carried it up to his room, taking a bag of groceries with him.

Gilbert let out a thin whine of disappointment but did as he was told. Cans were lined against the wall, deep green and thick crimson, several cans of warm beige surrounded a blistering yellow-orange. Gilbert smiled; the paint almost gave off a heat of its own.

Ludwig returned and soon the harsh smell of wet paint filled their rooms. The living room was now forest green, the study crimson. Ludwig hadn't wanted to paint his room but finally gave in and it was painted beige like the halls. The kitchen was left plaster white but Ludwig had agreed to let Gilbert buy new countertops and cabinets.

"Thanks for the paint, Lutz." The elder brother said as they rolled bright paint onto his bedroom walls.

"I thought you would like it."

"Now I never have to go a day without seeing the sun," he breathed as the golden color overtook the walls.

Sticky paint made a crackling noise between the roller and the wall.

"We need to do something about the floors."

"Gilbert, isn't that a little excessive?"

"Just the linoleum, we'll put carpet in the living room, tile in the kitchen and bathrooms, this carpet can stay."

"Only if we don't repaint the outside of the house."

Gilbert's head cocked to the left as he contemplated the compromise for a moment, "Alright, deal."

He hummed along to the foghorn pulse of the radio. The walls shimmered with wet paint. Three dogs wheezed as they sniffed at rags dipped in color.

"Do I get my gift now, Lutz?" The brothers glanced around at their work.

"Sure, Gilbert, I'll take it down to the kitchen. It doesn't smell too much like paint in there."

The elder brother picked up the radio and carried it downstairs to wait for his brother.

Ludwig turned into his room and lifted the covered dome from his bed with the bag of groceries. The dome began to sing.

He walked down the stairs into the kitchen where he set the present down on the counter with a light metallic clank.

"Uncover it, Gilbert," Ludwig said.

The gray fabric flew off with a flourish, it crumpled on the linoleum.

"You didn't."

"Do you like it?"

"God, Lutz, I love it."

The yellow canary sang in its gilded cage.

"I bought some seed for him."

Gilbert's eyes were glued to the little bird who stared right back. "He's beautiful." White fingers slid through the thin bars and Gilbert's fingertips brushed softly over the canary's head.

The yellow neck stretched under his touch and the bird launched into a high, rolling song.

Gilbert rolled his tongue with it.

Ludwig smiled as he filled the feeder with seeds.

"Lutz, do you have an apple? Let's give him an apple." The elder's voice was raspy with excitement as the avian pressed into his touch.

Ludwig smiled and crossed the kitchen to his refrigerator; he opened it and retrieved a crisp green apple.

The knife tapped loudly on the cutting board as the apple was minced. The younger brother swept the whitish pieces into his palm. He filled the feeder, handing it to Gilbert.

Ludwig washed the stickiness from his hands as the feeder clicked into place.

Black eyes studied the food, Gilbert whistled. The little yellow head turned and the bird hopped over to the plastic container.

The beak clicked as apple was crushed.

"What are you going to call him?"

Gilbert paused for a moment, "Fritz."

"For him?"

"We're all waiting for someone, Lutz."

The canary sang.

The radio buzzed.

The lights died down in the house as the paint dried.


	4. December 1990

December came as December usually does. Bright lights were refracted by the shimmering ornaments. The air in the house was thick with ginger and pine.

No carols played on the radio, just the foghorn.

Dishes clattered in the refurbished kitchen, Gilbert unfurled tinsel for the party that would never come. Neither brother had invited anyone.

The neighbors had waited for invitations expectantly, 1990 was the first year any lights were put up in the Beilschmidt house. They were let down.

"It's been two months, Gilbert."

"It's been _two _months, Ludwig."

Blue eyes met red.

"I waited eight years," the older brother replied calmly.

"You're still waiting."

"He didn't say he'd call often.''

"He didn't say he would call ever."

"He left the radio with me, for you, he has a reason."

"To torture me?"

"He loves you."

"Loved me."

Gilbert paused. "No, he loves you, you know he does. He forgives you."

"What I did was unforgivable."

"Do you know how many treaties I broke? How many friends I called enemy?"

Ludwig's response was sharp, edged with frustration, he made it to cut. "How did that work out for you?"

It drew blood. Pain flashed across the ex-nation's face.

"G-Gilbert, I-"

He was gone, quick footsteps left behind. The apology was spoken to no one. Ludwig sighed, shuddering and broken. He opened another box. The ornament inside nearly made him sick.

It was pale gold. A lacy pattern was embossed in the delicate glass. At the top, in black lettering, two names. Ludwig and…

"Ivan," he breathed.

The hot air clouded the golden shine. "Ivan, I'm so sorry."

Another apology was lost to silence.

He stood, shuffling over to the pulsing radio. "But, if you could just tell me. Why? Why did you give this to me? The noise, just talk to me, please. I'm so sorry, please; tell me, even if you never speak to me again, I just want to hear you one more time… Ivan…"

"He won't talk to you."

Ludwig turned quickly towards the voice.

"At least, not now, just give him some time." Gilbert had come downstairs. "When I saw him… When I saw him, in eighty-two, he was pretty broken up. Looked like he'd been crying for a long time. And the way he walked, dragging his feet, Ludwig, he didn't have the strength to stand, he couldn't even cry anymore, he just didn't have it in him."

"Did you tell him? That I-"

"Oh, god, I begged him, I pulled at his coat, it was tearing in my hands, I told him you loved him, I screamed it." Gilbert shook as he sobbed. "I said, 'Don't you leave him, don't leave him, my baby brother, my Ludwig, he loves you. He needs you. He needs you and I know you need him.'"

He paused; tears streamed down his face, a high, frustrated scream came from his wide open mouth, quiet, it irritated the dogs. White hands tore at his silvery hair.

"'I'm not gonna be here forever and you gotta look after him,' I said, and he put his hand on my shoulder and he was shaking and he said, 'Yes, yes you will, you have to be there for him, because I can't, I can't stay here in this world, not after what I did.' Oh, Ludwig, I laid him out, would've punched him if I could, but he just looked so beat, 'You're a coward,' I said, 'A coward, you gotta own up for those things, you're disgusting, leaving my Ludwig 'cause you're scared to look at what you've done!'"

"And he just looked at me and he gave me the radio, he said 'Give this to Ludwig, tell him I love him, tell him how much braver he is than me, tell him, please, and be his big brother, because God knows he loves you.'"

Gilbert stopped, his hands pulling harshly at his hair, "And I just let him go, I couldn't do it anymore, he walked away, quietly, and I never saw him again."

Ludwig stared; he hadn't realized he was crying until he felt the warm streak of the next tear on his cheek.

"Course that's when I realized what he'd been keepin' me alive on, all that land he took from you, he was keepin' me alive so I could complete you and I didn't want that…" Choked sobbing slurred the elder's words.

Ludwig couldn't bring himself to stand, so he sat, on his knees, before his swaying brother.

"I wanted him t' just kill me, just get it over with, so he could be the one to fix you, and you two would be happy and beautiful, and I could just be dead. I'd like that very much, to be dead."

Ludwig lurched. He ran to the kitchen. Cold tile bruised his knees. Clutching the steel trashcan he vomited. Acid stung his throat, the bile was bitter on his tongue and the texture made him want to vomit even more.

Between his choked gasps and wretches he heard him. "I'm so sorry, Lutz, god, why did I say that? I'm so sorry, I love you, I love you…"

Ludwig saw his brother's white socks from where he leaned over the can.

The loud radio buzzer hurt his head and he purged again.

"Lutz, I love you, I'm so sorry," the words were slow and Ludwig felt his brother's soft hand brush away the sweat on his temple.

Soon the hand was at his back, rubbing in gentle circles. "Are you okay, Lutz?"

Ludwig nodded.

"Let's go up to bed, you can brush your teeth, then sleep."

The heavier sibling leaned against his elder as they climbed the stairs. The bathroom lights were too bright but Ludwig rinsed his mouth anyway. He watched his tired brother in the mirror the entire time.

Finally he crawled into bed and pulled the cold sheets around him.

"If you need anything just call."

Ludwig barely nodded in response and the door was closed to the yellowy light.

When he woke up the ornament was gone.

* * *

So, I guess this is doing pretty well, the views this has gotten are off my Richter, wow... Just thanks, please leave a comment 'cause that would be great! I really am motivated to continue this, thanks!


	5. 1991

On the last day of 1990 the house welcomed strangers, a tall blond and his shorter brunette companion. They sat at the kitchen table, champagne sweated in front of them.

"Francis, Antonio, it's been a while, huh?" Gilbert smiled, the house was quiet.

The blond, called Francis, gave an uncomfortable smile, "Yes, it has, Gilbert, we're glad you look well."

Gilbert laughed, "My brother takes good care of me."

The friends glanced around awkwardly.

"Uh, speaking of him," Antonio stuttered, "Where is Ludwig?"

"In his study."

Cold water slipped down the green bottle.

"I see you got a canary?" Francis tried.

"Ludwig bought him for me, name's Fritz, he's a roller."

At the mention of his name, Fritz the canary began his high gargling song.

Antonio giggled, "Very cute, Gil."

"Well, I'm glad that Ludwig seems to have moved on," Francis said.

Gilbert's eyes flashed and the canary stopped, the roll of the foghorn echoed.

A tense moment passed.

"G-Gilb-"

"Do you see much of him?" the elder brother asked.

"Who? Ivan?" Francis almost shook, something was in the room.

Gilbert nodded.

"No, he doesn't come to Summit meetings, we never see him."

Antonio's agitated gaze flitted about, "Gilbert, what's- what's that noise?"

"The radio."

The two friends glanced at each other.

"What radio?"

"The one upstairs."

"I-is Ludwig, listening to it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Not your problem."

Francis shivered, "Isn't it a little disturbing?"

"No, no, he's just waiting."

Antonio fixed Gilbert in a solemn gaze, "For him?"

"Yes."

The blond sighed, "It's been eight years, Gilbert, shouldn't Ludwig have moved on?"

"He loves him; I'm not in charge of my brother anymore."

Antonio had started to stand, "But, it's unhealthy."

Gilbert shrugged.

The buzzer sounded again, it seemed closer.

"We should be going."

The door slammed and the champagne was left corked.

A few hours later Ludwig came downstairs.

"They left?"

"Yeah," Gilbert had his face buried in his hands. He didn't look up.

The younger brother set the radio beside the champagne.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be, they just don't understand anymore."

"What don't they understand?"

Gilbert raised his head and met Ludwig's steady gaze.

"Us."

Ludwig reached over to pick at the cork in the bottle.

"Did you have anyone over while I was gone, Lutz?"

"Feliciano came over a few times after meetings, Alfred used to check up on me, he and Arthur gave me Aster." Ludwig gestured to the golden retriever who lay with the other two dogs in their bed. She raised her head at the sound of her name. "They said she was to take my mind off you."

"Did she?"

"Dogs don't replace dead brothers, Gilbert."

The elder nodded.

"Why don't we have some champagne, Gilbert? It's almost midnight."

His brother shook his head in agreement; Ludwig stood and fetched a corkscrew from a kitchen drawer. He stood over the bottle and spun in the screw. The cork came out with a loud pop.

Ludwig filled two of the glasses that had been set out previously.

As the green microwave clock struck twelve, the glasses clinked, and the brothers drained the contents.

The glasses were refilled.

Gilbert raised his drink, "A toast?"

Ludwig lifted his slowly, "To us,"

"To those who don't understand," Gilbert replied.

"To those we left behind,"

"To those who left us behind,"

"To eight years,"

"To waiting,"

"To Ivan,"

"To Death." The drinks were thrown back and the glasses slammed on the table.

* * *

It took several months to convince the Frenchman and Spaniard to return, but return they did, with a vengeance.

Ludwig was left alone with the radio every Saturday night as his brother went on wild drinking binges.

He knew it would happen but he didn't expect his brother's breaking to come in the form of bloodshot eyes, drunken screams, and vomit reeking of alcohol.

He cried as he watched Gilbert wretch over the cold toilet bowl. The hard porcelain left bruises and red marks to be found in the morning.

When daylight came Ludwig laughed the loudest, he smiled at all of Gilbert's jokes for when the weekend rolled around and the house became dark he would do nothing but cry.

Sometimes the police brought his older brother home in torn clothes and a shock blanket. Ludwig would carry Gilbert upstairs and strip him of his alcohol soaked clothes before lowering him into the bath.

He scrubbed as hard as he could but the smell of vodka and defeat could not be washed from his brother's skin.

Occasionally the three friends would drink at the Beilschmidt house but as soon as the blond and brunette were completely inebriated Ludwig would drag them through the front door and watch them roll down the stairs leading to the house.

Some mornings Gilbert would sob and kiss his hands and tell him how much he loved him. Tell him how sorry he was for it all.

Most mornings Gilbert could not find the strength to raise his head.

One night it was dark, dark as death.

Ludwig was tired.

His breath fell in time with the radio buzzer.

He did not hear the footsteps on the roof.

They were soft.

Feet crept along the pointed rooftop. White socks on a tightrope.

The elder brother held his arms out to the side. His pale skin shone. Soft feet bent on the sharp gable roof. Shingles stuck to the fabric.

Left. Right. Left. Right. One foot in front of the other. Careful wobbling.

And he whispered songs and sayings.

"Dogs don't replace dead brothers, dogs don't replace dead brothers, dogs don't replace dead brothers, Gilbert."

He stopped, his toes over the open air.

"Dead dogs don't replace… and brothers don't… But… What? What was the..."

Filmy, drunken tears ran into his mouth forming confused sentences.

Gasps were unheard from within the neighbors' houses. They stared at the madman.

He choked on the salty water. He almost couldn't breathe.

"Dead dogs don't replace anything, and dead brothers don't replace dead lovers."

He laughed, confused.

"Ludwig," he whispered, "Dead brothers don't replace dead lovers."

Inhale. Exhale, fall, fall, fall…

The body hit the concrete walkway with a soft thump.

A woman shrieked behind a window.

A man covered his eyes.

Inside the pale blue house a brother jarred awake.

Out of the room, down the stairs, out the door. Ludwig stared, panting, Gilbert lay, sleeping.

The younger brother nearly fell down the steps; he glanced around before gripping his brother underneath his arms and dragging him inside.

Rusty blood followed him across the cement and up the stairs.

No sirens wailed down the streets.

The kitchen was dark. Ludwig stared at his brother's broken body. Blood had stopped leaking from his head. He lay still and cold on the tile.

Gilbert was dead.

The foghorn sounded but Ludwig was silent.

Dogs' eyes shone in the blue moonlight.

He coughed once, then a breath, pained and shuddering.

"Gilbert."

"Goddammit, Ludwig."

"You knew it wouldn't work."

Gilbert lay on the floor, silent for a moment, "I could try."

Ludwig's eyes searched his. Finally the younger brother stood and walked quietly back to his room.

The elder brother stared at the ceiling, cold and empty, 'til morning came.

The neighbors watched as the younger Beilschmidt washed the blood from his sidewalk.


	6. December 1997

1991 came and went, in like the lion out like the lamb as they say.

1997 wandered through the brothers' white door.

The Christmas lights seemed dimmer that year. The house was tired, the brothers were tired, the radio was tired.

They sat, slumped, on the couch.

At twenty-one hundred hours, twenty-one hundred hours, December twenty-fourth, the buzzer stopped.

Ludwig stared at his brother as the silence engulfed them.

Silent.

Neither could speak.

For a moment they thought it was all over, the radio was broken, no more signal.

Gilbert lunged for it, reaching to spin the dial.

"Ya, UVB-76, ya, UVB-76…"

"Ivan!"

Gilbert shushed his brother.

"180, 08, BROMAL. 74, 27, 99, 14. Boris, Roman, Olga, Mikhail, Anna, Larisa. 7, 4, 2, 7, 9, 9, 1, 4."

Gilbert nearly fell over himself racing to get a pen from the kitchen.

"Did you get it? Did you get it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, Ludwig," Gilbert paused, "1-8-0, 0-8. B-R-O-M-A-L, 7-4, 2-7, 9-9, 1-4."

"Names too?"

"Yeah, Boris, Roman, Olga, Mikhail, Anna, Larisa, and then the numbers again, right?"

"Yeah… What does it mean?"

"I-I don't know, I don't know this code."

"Did he give you anything to-"

"No, no, he just gave me the radio," Gilbert ran a hand through his hair.

A pause.

"We should call them…" Ludwig's voice was choked.

"Who? His sisters?"

"Don't you think they should know, that he's still out there, he's still alive?"

"I-I don't know…" Gilbert stopped, "Yeah, yeah, let's call them."

Ludwig nearly ran to the phone.

The old plastic receiver clicked, the buttons were stuck from years of disuse.

A voice came over the line, "Hello?"

"Katarina?"

"…Ludwig…"

"I-Ivan, he- I heard a broadcast, on the radio."

"What? What radio, Ludwig, what are you talking about?"

Ludwig clasped his hand over the receiver, "He didn't tell her about the radio?"

Gilbert just shook his head.

"Katarina, your brother, he left me a radio set to a certain channel, there was just a broadcast and-"

"Was it him? Oh, Ludwig, was it our Ivan?"

"It was Ivan, he gave a code and then the regular broadcast went back on."

Ludwig could hear muffled cries on the other end of the line.

"Oh, Katarina, don't cry, please don't cry…" The off-white receiver had become wet in his hand. "Please, do you know this code?" He paused and waited for the whimpering to quiet.

"180, 08, BROMAL. 74, 27, 99, 14. Boris, Roman, Olga, Mikhail, Anna, Larisa. 7, 4, 2, 7, 9, 9, 1, 4."

Muted shuffling could be heard, the line crackled.

"No, no, I'm sorry, Ludwig, I don't know what that means…"

"Th-that's okay, we just wanted you to know about Ivan, and tell Natalya as well."

"Call anytime, Ludwig, we'd appreciate that, and tell Gilbert we miss him, the house has been so quiet since eighty-two…"

Ludwig managed a smile, "I will, goodbye…"

"Oh, and Ludwig?"

"Yes?"

"Th-the station, can I have the station?"

A pause, "UVB-76."

"Thank you, thank you so much…"

"Goodbye, Katarina, call sometime…"

"Goodbye, Ludwig, we love you…"

The line clicked.

"Well?"

"Katarina didn't know the code…"

"Oh…"

"She said they missed you."

Gilbert smiled, "I had a good time in their house, they were all so good to me, given the circumstances."

"Ivan-"

"Was always reclusive… He would come downstairs every so often, just to sit on a couch and admire his sisters, he seemed happy when they were happy."

Ludwig smiled.

"Raivis and I would drink and play jokes on the other, he was so excited to have an 'older brother.' And Toris and Eduard were always so quiet; I think they were scared…" Gilbert looked away.

"Of what?"

"I-I think they were scared of Ivan, but, he always seemed so nice to his sisters, he bullied Raivis a little… They were scared of something in that house…"

Ludwig tensed. "Were you scared?"

Gilbert looked up from where he had pressed himself into the couch cushions.

"Yeah… Yeah, sometimes I got scared in that house; we all knew it was there, we just didn't know what 'it' was… It was like the radio, Ludwig, it was a noise in those halls, I-I think it was history… Like armies marching, and men dying, and the people singing…All one big noise… Even Ivan was scared of it…"

"What happened?"

"It was eighty-two; it was cold, so brutally cold that winter… He just left, Ivan just left…" Gilbert looked off towards the dimming Christmas lights. "The government came to take me in summer, and he was with them… I don't think he called them…"

Ludwig swallowed.

"I think the noise had gotten to him over the years, he looked as if he had been wandering all those months… I told you, his coat was coming apart; I had ripped fabric in my hands… But it felt almost like blood, blood on my hands…"

The buzzer sounded.

"Let's not talk about that anymore, Ludwig, let's be happy he called."

Ludwig nodded his head.

Neither brother slept that night.


	7. 2001

Katarina and Natalya called a few times in the following years. Neither listened to the station regularly, they said it was between Ludwig and Ivan.

In 2000 Ludwig asked them to find him. They would not. He wanted to be alone. They would grant him that.

In 2001 Gilbert still drank.

Ludwig still cried.

The radio still played.

The door to Ludwig's bedroom opened one night. Gilbert tottered in, tired and hung-over.

His body hit the bed with a thump. He kicked his way under the blankets in the dark.

"Ludwig," the older brother whispered.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"I know, Gilbert."

"It's been four years."

"It's been _four _years."

Gilbert's head flopped to the side, he laughed, "You sound like me…" He paused, "A long time ago."

"You're still you."

"I'm not the same, Ludwig; we're not the same…" They peered through the darkness, where they thought each other's eyes were.

"You don't call me 'Lutz' anymore."

A pause.

A pale hand reached across and stroked his cheek. "I love you, Ludwig."

"Did you love me when you jumped?"

The hand stopped, warm on his face.

"I was drunk."

"You were dead."

The radio was deafening in the silence.

"Do you forgive me?"

"I'll always forgive you, Gilbert."

The night was deep, and dark, and sleepless.

"What's it like to die?" Ludwig asked.

"You mean… You've never tried it, Ludwig?"

The pillow rustled as he shook his head.

Gilbert bit his lip, cries welled in his throat, "You're so brave, you know that? Never to have tried it…" He paused for a moment. "It's like getting high, like the best high you've ever gotten, but, god, you fall just as fuckin' hard. Headaches from bashin' your head open on the ground, bullets taste horrible comin' outta your brains…"

Ludwig thought back to the acrid opium dens. He and Gilbert had indulged themselves every so often, many countries did. He still had scars. Silvery webs up and down his left arm, tattooed by the latest and greatest in poison.

Neither had enjoyed smoking the lovely opioids, their pleasure came as needles pierced their skin. The immediate pulsing high took their breath away. Ludwig had met him there, in the sinner's room.

They were all alike in their faults.

"How many times did he do it?"

"What?"

"How many times did Ivan try to kill himself?"

Gilbert stared at his brother. "Twice, when I was there… I cleaned it all up both times… Didn't want his sisters to see it… He liked his pistols…"

Ludwig tensed, Ivan, dead, several times. "D-did you find him?"

"God, Ludwig… Yeah, I did, watched him do it once."

"What did you do?"

"Nearly picked up the gun and shot him again, for being so selfish… But I couldn't, so I took out that picture of you I keep with me, you know, the little one, from that summer in 1914... And I held it in front of him when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw, was you. I left it on his desk. I ran out then, I was crying so much, couldn't let him see me like that…"

Gilbert looked up to the ceiling, "He gave it back in the morning; I don't think he stopped crying at all that night…"

"Gilbert…"

"Yes, Ludwig?"

"Who have you loved?"

"You."

"Who else?"

"No one."

"Not even Fredrick?"

"A great friend, but no… Only you."

"I love you, Gilbert."

"I love you too, Ludwig…"

The pulse of the radio filled their ears, slowing their breath.

In the dark the older brother whispered, "Only you, it was only ever you…"

And they knew it was true.

000

Ludwig dreamed that night.

Of needles and drugs.

And Ivan.

The smoke was thick; Ludwig's head lolled back on the chaise, eyes narrowed. The needle slipped from his skin. Syringe cold in his hand.

Footsteps nearing were muffled.

They stopped, a man chuckled. "What's a lovely boy like you doing here?"

The dreaming teenager raised his head. Hair fell over his eyes; a smile split his face, "Gettin' high…"

The tall man laughed again, "What a lovely, lovely boy…"

Ludwig's smile was droopy, "I'll tell Gilbert you said that, he'll be upset." He giggled.

"Oh, you must be Ludwig then, I'm sure your brother will make an exception for me."

Ludwig hummed. He tried to focus on the man, ashy hair and violet eyes. Tall, and pretty.

"Mm, who are you?"

"I'm going to talk to your brother…" Ludwig watched as the man took a step and stumbled, the man was just as high as he was.

Balancing himself, the newcomer sauntered over to the bar where Gilbert sat. They shook hands and laughed.

Ludwig gripped the pillows and stood. He limped to the bar.

"Lutz," Gilbert wrapped an arm around his shoulders, "This is Ivan Braginsky." He gestured to the man.

"Oh, Russia, yeah?"

"Yes, I am, and you are the German Empire. Gilbert, you never told me you had such a nice boy for a brother."

"He's no boy, Ivan, he's nineteen… Or at least he looks that way…"

Ivan laughed, deep and loud, "What are ages to us anyhow?"

The pair continued to talk. Ludwig narrowed his eyes, the fog swam in his head. Ivan Braginsky looked as if he was in his twenties.

"Gilbert, Gilbert, I am still a boy…" He murmured, his brother looked at him.

"Lutz, who let you get so high?" Gilbert's arm slid off the youth's still sloped shoulders.

Ludwig began to crash, he giggled, "You did, brother."

Ivan was smiling endlessly; when he looked at Ludwig his smile touched his eyes.

"Well, remind me next time not to…"

"Gilbert," Ivan chuckled, "You'll forget as soon as you get the needle in your hand."

Gilbert laughed, he held Ludwig close, "I guess so."

Ludwig's head rolled onto his brother's shoulder, his dimming eyes staring up at Ivan.

"I guess we'll be going, Ivan, Lutz is already down…"

"Come and visit sometime, Katarina and Natalya would love to meet such a nice boy."

As they shuffled to the door, Ludwig could here Ivan's muttering, heavy with drugs, "Such a lovely boy, such a lovely boy…"

Ludwig dreamed of the dark and smoky rooms were they kissed, their blood hot, and their lips gentle, loosened by morphine.

* * *

Reviews! Oh, I love reviews! Thanks for the comments by **Baron von Riktenstein**, **TiggitNeko**, and **izzy1229anime**! And to those who followed this story! It means a lot to me. I've got chapters on hand and the story is far from over! Please comment or review!


	8. November 2001- December 2002

November was cold.

The house was cold. The buzzing cracked frost on the window.

Ludwig stared into his coffee. The steam wet his face. Gilbert sat, watching M*A*S*H, on the couch.

The English filled the house, foreign and loud. Gilbert liked the high voices of the Americans. So optimistic, filled with hope, not tired and gruff from centuries of war and famine.

"I am 143. Not receiving the oscillator."

The foreign conversation was muffled, crackling. Gilbert fumbled for the remote; Hawkeye's sharp laughter was cut off.

Ludwig gaped at the radio, taking a moment to recognize the Russian muttering on it.

"That stuff comes from the hardware room."

Gilbert leaned over the couch, the conversation ended.

"He's not alone," the older brother murmured.

Ludwig was dumbstruck, "He's not alone, oh, god, he's not alone…"

"Ludwig, what's wrong? Why are you upset?"

Ludwig's mouth quivered, a smile, "I'm just so happy he's not alone…"

Gilbert tried to smile.

"He's with people, he might have friends, oh, Gilbert, I'm so happy."

Tears ran down his face. They dropped onto the tablecloth.

"Gilbert, am I alone? Are we alone?"

The elder brother stared at him. He stood, knocking the remote onto the floor. Walking across the room he gathered his crying sibling into his arms.

Peals of high, loud laughter came from the television.

000

2002.

Were the years longer or shorter?

Ludwig slept so much that Gilbert would make himself dinner.

Gilbert drank so much that Ludwig would carry him to bed.

The months fell from the calendar. The dogs watched with wide, sad eyes, the canary sang.

December 9th, it was cold again.

The radio buzzed.

And buzzed.

And buzzed.

Until it stopped.

Ludwig awoke in a cold sweat. He glanced at the clock. Four eighteen A.M. Silence was in his room. It was crushing, suffocating.

The light clicked on and Gilbert stood in the doorway, sallow and sleepless.

"It's quiet,"

"The buzzer stopped," Ludwig replied.

They waited, staring at the quiet radio.

"UVB-76, UVB-76. 62, 691, I-Z-A-F-E-T, 36, 93, 82, 70."

The buzzing began.

"That's it?"

"I guess so."

"He couldn't have waited until it was at least light?"

Ludwig sighed.

"I mean, god, we don't even know what it fucking means and he's sending us messages at four in the goddamn morning?" Gilbert ran a hand through his hair. "Ludwig, sometimes I think you fell in love with the wrong man."

Gilbert walked to the bed and sat down. "Where did you meet him anyway?"

Ludwig smiled and Gilbert crawled under the warm covers. "In the opium den…"

Gilbert turned toward him quickly, "You're kidding."

Ludwig laughed, "No, really, I did, you took me to that one place during our trip to China-"

"And we brought our own needles because you refused to smoke."

"It doesn't taste good…"

"Who knew I would raise an opium snob?"

"You were the one who gave it to me."

"And who really liked it?"

"You did too…"

Gilbert laughed, "Okay, so we're in that den in China…"

"Right, so, I was high, and he just wanders over, he asked me what a lovely boy was doing there and…"

"A lovely boy?"

"That's what he called me."

Laughter, "I always knew he was a sap, but how smooth…"

"He was high too, I'm not sure he knew what he was saying. Well, he walked over to you and I followed, and you introduced us… Then you took me out because I was crashing, you told me later he was there for business deals. I can't believe you forgot we met in an opium den."

"Ludwig, I've forgotten a lot of things, most of them in bars and opium dens."

Ludwig laughed quietly. "You didn't notice us sneaking away every time we met in those dens?"

"I was _high_."

Ludwig smiled.

"I do remember how he smiled when he saw you, how it touched his eyes."

"You remember that?"

"Of course I do, I thought I'd feel jealous, or upset, I didn't want you to be taken from me. But I didn't, I just felt happy, and so proud…"

"Gilbert…"

"Ivan is good for you, much better than I ever was, I'm glad you love him…"

Ludwig stared at his brother quietly. Gilbert turned his head.

"Good night, Ludwig." He closed his eyes and sleep took him.

But Ludwig continued to stare, listening to the pulse of the radio.

000

The car door slammed.

"Well, here it is."

Ludwig looked over the roof of the black car.

"It's all paid for, mortgage, furniture, everything," said the man in the dark suit.

"Thanks,"

"Hey, anything for you, much as the government says they don't need ya, ah, well I guess…"

Ludwig frowned at the stuttering Berlin government worker. "You don't have to lie to me, it's 1963, I can handle it, I know they don't need me."

The man looked across at him, "Ah… Well… Ahem, yeah, so the neighborhood will be built soon, they'll start construction whenever the Americans grant permits, or something."

Ludwig looked around; the land had been cleared, flat and dusty. A lonely blue house stood in the center. White shutters banged in the cold wind.

The man pulled his suit jacket tight around him. "I'll get your bags."

Ludwig nodded, walking to the car door. The man opened the trunk to heave the suitcases out. Ludwig opened the car door and two dogs leapt out.

The dachshund, Blackie, danced at his feet, happy to be out of the car. His Alsatian, Berlitz, stared out across the dusty asphalt roads and flattened blocks.

"Pretty dogs ya got there," the Berliner said carrying the suitcases to him. "Heard anything from your brother?" He set down the bags.

Ludwig stooped, letting Blackie lick his hand, he shook his head.

"Ha, ah, not much of a talker, are you?"

"Not much to talk about."

The government worker stiffened.

"Ah, well, you want me to walk ya in?"

"No, thanks."

"Alright, you call if you need anything."

Ludwig stood and nodded.

The man hurried into his car and started the engine. Ludwig gathered Blackie into his arms to keep him from being crushed. Three pairs of eyes watched as the car sped away.

Berlitz turned his head toward Ludwig and whined.

"I know, but this is where we're going to live," he spoke softly to the dog.

Setting Blackie down, he picked up the bags and climbed the front steps with his dogs. He opened the door and shut it behind him.

Ludwig dropped the bags as the dogs raced ahead to explore the house.

It was silent.

Gilbert didn't shout his dinner order or call to him for a beer.

Ivan didn't lean out of the kitchen like he had in the apartment they had shared briefly.

No, it was silent.

The silence whispered like gossiping phantoms in the whitewashed walls.

Death wasn't in this house; it was too new for that.

But Ludwig knew this was his tomb.

It was an asylum, with its blank walls and linoleum floors.

Devoid of life, devoid of the lives he needed with him.

Devoid of Gilbert.

Devoid of Ivan.

Good god, he couldn't think of another word but devoid, he thought it until it made no sense to him anymore.

Ludwig fell to his knees. He clutched his face and screamed and sobbed and wailed.

"Ludwig? Ludwig! Hey! Ludwig!"

He gasped awake. Sitting up instinctively he felt cold sweat running down his temple.

"Ludwig, what's wrong?"

"G-Gilbert?" his voice was gravelly from screaming.

"Yeah, it's me," the lamp clicked on and his brother's face was illuminated. "What's wrong, Ludwig? You were crying."

"It was just a dream, just a dream."

"Yeah, are you alright? What was the dream about?"

"I'm okay, I just, I dreamt about when I first came to the house," Ludwig's voice was strained.

"The house?"

"Y-yeah, you know how it looked when you came here?"

"Painted all white?"

Ludwig nodded, "That's how the government gave it to me, and I just missed you a lot, and Ivan… I miss Ivan so much…"

Gilbert wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and lay down next to him in the bed. He seemed to be doing that often. It reminded Ludwig of the nights they would spend together when he was a boy, a little empire in a big cold castle.

"I know you miss him, Ludwig…"

It was silent for a moment as Ludwig caught his breath, calming himself.

Gilbert waited.

"Do you want me to stay here?"

Ludwig nodded.

"Okay."

Ludwig hated the nighttime.

* * *

Sorry for the late update! Here's a longer chapter for your troubles! Anyways, a few things here, M*A*S*H, yeah, that's a frickin great show. Absolutely love love love it! An Alsatian is the same as a German Shepherd, for those who don't know, and the Berlin accent? One of my favorite writers, Hans Fallada, uses something similar in his book "Every Man Dies Alone." For those who have the patience to read 600+ pages, Hans Fallada is where it's at!

Anyways, look him up, guy's the most passionate writer, like, ever... Seriously...

Thank you for your comments and favorites! Reviews are needed and cherished so please comment! Thank ya, thank ya!


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